


You're My Best Friend

by pherryt



Series: Mandatory Fun Day Prompts (Winterhawk) [6]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Fluff, Heart to Hearts, M/M, Mutual Pining, Party, Pining, Road Trip, Selfies, Sight seeing, a little bit of subterfuge going on, bed sharing, ice cream shop, lots of fluff, pop culture references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:47:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22865806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/pseuds/pherryt
Summary: Clint and Bucky need to go on a road trip to get to their next mission which Clint figures is the best way to get to know Bucky even better. It goes better than planned!
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, Winterhawk
Series: Mandatory Fun Day Prompts (Winterhawk) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1555123
Comments: 36
Kudos: 125
Collections: Clint Barton Bingo, Mandatory Fun Day, Winterhawk Bingo





	You're My Best Friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LoBoat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoBoat/gifts).



> This fills 3 things (i'd been hoping to add something from the Bucky Barnes fluffathon but today's prompts don't fit anything else in this fic that i finished this morning.)  
> • Clint Barton Bingo - road trip  
> • Winterhawk Bingo - Free Space  
> • Mandatory Fun Day - Road Trip
> 
> Winteridiot randomly picked Road Trip from my Clint Barton bingo and the SPN Multishipper discord helped me figure out the title... thanks guys!

Clint and Bucky were going on a mission, in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. If Clint hadn't known what was _really_ going on, he'd be pretty sure it was some sort of punishment detail that he just hadn’t been able to prove – yet. Or what he (or Bucky) might have done to get stuck with it. Still, he played it up, for appearances.

They weren’t even allowed to take the quinjet – something about drawing too much attention. Which, okay, to be fair, it would. But to draw attention one must have attention to draw and where they were going? There was _nothing_ around for _miles_.

But Fury held firm, so a road trip it was.

However, there _was_ as silver lining to it all. A road trip with Bucky Barnes was something Clint was actually looking forward to. It meant he had more opportunities to get to know him and that Bucky wouldn’t be able to hide away in his rooms or have Steve running interference either.

Bucky crossed his arms, glaring at the car as Clint opened the door and got out. Tony had offered something from his personal collection, but Clint had turned him down. If a quinjet had been too flashy, anything Tony gave them would _definitely_ have been too flashy. So instead, Clint had borrowed a neighbor’s car – a deep blue VW bug – and not one of the newer models either, but a beat up, paint scratched one he was fairly sure was from about the early 70’s. Maybe.

It played cassette tapes. And Clint was prepared for that. He already had a shoebox filled with mixtapes of all kinds – and he’d been sure to stash it in the footwell of the passenger seat.

“You ready to get movin’, Barnes?”

“In this piece of crap?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong with it? Thought you’d feel at home with something a little… older.”

“I was brainwashed, not sheltered. I’ve used new technology before, Barton. A ‘new’ car isn’t going to make me run for the hills screaming,” Bucky sighed, unfolding his arms and yanking the car door open. He tossed a duffle into the back seat and dropped into the front passenger, the seat – and maybe the car – groaning a little worryingly as he did so.

Clint climbed back in to the unnerving, skeptical stare from Bucky.

“Don’t worry, Barnes. She’ll hold together.” Clint resisted, mightily, the urge to say _Hear me baby, hold together,_ ” because he knew Bucky just wouldn’t get it.

Then again, maybe Bucky would. Who knew what he actually had been exposed to over the years on missions, what with popular culture and all? And that was _before_ the team had taken a vested interested in catching a couple of centenarians up to the 21st century. Still, despite their best efforts, Steve, somehow, had still missed out on some critical things.

Soooo, yeah… who knew if Bucky had yet seen Star Wars? Hopefully he had. But probably he hadn’t. Steve was kind of a workaholic, and Bucky mostly hung out with Steve.

And sometimes Nat.

And occasionally Clint, though that was usually on missions or down on the range.

The little bug puttered her way out of New York City by way of Henry Hudson Parkway and the George Washington Bridge, then Clint aimed himself westward into the setting sun. Beside him, Bucky had both an atlas and his phone pulled open to google maps, checking their destination.

For the second time, Clint found himself reassuring Bucky that everything was fine. “Hey, where we’re going, we don’t need maps.” Another wasted line. Even if he hadn’t changed it up a little, Bucky wouldn’t have caught that.

He needed to educate Bucky in the way of movies. And not leave it up to team bonding night because that was all too rare an occurrence for the backlog of movies and television he (and Steve) still needed to get through.

“Oh? Why is that?”

Clint tapped his head and grinned, unable to hold back this time. “Relax. I’m the map. It’s all up here.”

“Oh, that’s comforting,” Bucky said dryly, not putting the atlas or the phone away. Clint startled and blinked at Bucky. No, there was no way he’d gotten _that_ reference – had he?

He shook his head and concentrated on the road. Well, mostly concentrated. “So what did Fury put in our mission packet? Other than our destination, I mean?”

Bucky sighed. “Almost nothing. Fury’s being - if that’s even possible - more tightlipped than usual. Instructions and equipment will be waiting for us on the other end, delivered by a trusted agent.”

Clint snorted. “Trusted by who? Him? Me? You? All of us combined? ‘Cause, that’s a pretty damn short list.” After the reboot of SHIELD, about the only fellow agents Clint trusted was Natasha. They’d been through far too much for him _not_ to trust her.

“You ain’t kiddin’,” Bucky said with a hint of that old Brooklyn drawl that always made Clint’s go a little weak at the knees. Bucky closed the atlas and tucked it between the seat and the door, pulling the shoe box up from the floor and flicking through the cassettes. The radio had been flickering between stations and static and Clint’s tuning hadn’t found anything better. Reception was _always_ poor in the mountains. It was only a matter of time before the radio was useless for anything but pre-recorded shit.

Clint watched Bucky’s fingers digging through the battered box, held together by purple ductape. Clint knew what he’d find. None of the cassettes had cases and few were store bought. Clint’s messy scrawl littering the tapes almost illegibly. Hey, it was a code!

“How the _fuck_ do you even know what’s on these?”

“That’s half the fun!” Clint chirped.

He could _feel_ Bucky’s incredulous stare on him. Clint just flashed him a wide grin.

“This one has Nat’s name on it.” Bucky said. “But that’s not her handwriting.”

Clint squirmed. He knew _exactly_ which tape that was. It was one of the very few albums he’d actually ~~stolen~~ purchased, rather than being music he’d recorded off the radio. “Ah, yeaaaah,” Clint hedged. “I was maybe a little embarrassed to admit that the tape was mine.”

“Is that so?” Bucky asked, something challenging in his voice.

“Hey, I’ve long since gotten over that,” Clint protested. “Feel free to pop it in.”

“I dunno, Barton. You’ve not exactly got much shame or sense from what I can tell. Anything that embarrasses _you_ seems like something I might wanna stay away from.”

“You sayin’ you too chicken to find out what’s on there, Barnes?” Clint smirked, briefly glancing over at Bucky before putting his eyes back to the road.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed and seconds later, Clint heard the slide and click of a cassette locking into place, the static of the radio giving way to clean sound and the low tones of an organ, Clint’s fingers already tapping the steering wheel as the guitar started. He could still see, in his minds eye, that music video that went with the song.

Listening with his head cocked for the songs intro, Bucky said, “What was so bad about that?”

Clint, busy mouthing the words of the song, shrugged. “Got me.”

“You must have had a reason for being embarrassed by it.”

“Yeah, can’t really remember it now.”

“Like hell, you don’t. You’re blushing,” Bucky said.

“No, I’m not!”

“You are. You really are!” Bucky said. There was something in his voice that made Clint look at him but he could no more pick out what Bucky was feeling from his facial expression as he had from the tone.

Clint shrugged again as Faith slid away into Father Figure. How to explain this? “Back when George Michael was producing, I was still trying to… fit in? I guess? I mean, I’d never had a normal childhood, and I came to terms with my queerness long before I left the circus, but there was… y’know, stigma and shit. Times have gotten better since your days but it had its rough patches. Admitting to being a guy and liking his music was… shameful, in the wrong circles. I’ve long since gotten over that.”

“Why was it shameful to like the music?”

“Not the music. _His_ music. Because of who he was.” Clint’s fingers were no longer tapping the steering wheel but gripping it tight. Steve and Bucky _were_ products of an older culture, older ways of thinking. Steve had had a rough time adjusting to certain things and it would only make sense that Bucky would too. “Just… google him.”

Silently, Bucky did just that while Clint drove, the music playing on. But now Clint was too tense to really enjoy it, only reflexively humming a few notes before his eyes skittered sideways and he stopped. It seemed to take far too long before Bucky dropped his phone into his lap, having already replaced the shoebox on the floor, and ran a hand through his hair.

“That’s… all sorts of fucked up. And unfair,” Bucky said softly. Clint felt a breath shudder through him as he near sagged in relief. Well, that answered a question Clint had been wanting to ask for a long time, but had never felt it appropriate to ask.

The tape deck auto flipped when it hit the end of the tape, and neither of them made a move to eject it later when it had obviously looped.

A few hours later, closing in on midnight, they stopped at a Denny’s to stretch their legs and grab some food. Clint sliding into the back of the booth with a groan and another stretch as Bucky slid in beside him.

“You stretch like a goddamn cat,” Bucky noted, eyes momentarily glued to Clint’s midriff which – _aaaah, yes!_ His shirt had lifted with the stretch, good job Clint! – before ripping away and focusing on the menu he’d been given.

Clint beamed at him. “And under the right circumstances, I even purr.” And continued to stretch.

“Somethin’ to drink?” their waitress asked. Clint finally dropped his arms to the table, pulling his legs in a little to keep from tripping her.

“God, yes. All the coffee ever,” he moaned.

Bucky dropped the menu, cleared his throat and said hoarsely, “Just water for me, thanks.”

“So whaddya think Fury’s sending us after?” Clint asked a few minutes later, hands cradled around the steaming mug of coffee, food ordered and menus taken away.

Bucky didn’t answer so Clint knocked their knees together, nudging him along. Bucky nudged back and Clint opened his eyes to see Bucky glancing pointedly around the public space.

“Nah man, it's a game. We come up with the most ridiculous shit ever. Nothing to overhear,” Clint insisted. “Look, I’ll start. Fury called us in because psychic bears wearing tutus are rampaging through town on unicycles and liberating pet stores.”

Bucky stared at him incredulously. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Exactly!” Clint grinned.

Bucky frowned. “I still don’t think this is a good idea, right here, right now. You’re an…” Bucky waved at Clint vaguely and gave him a significant look. “Ridiculous happens on the regular.”

Clint had to give him that one. But also…

“You know, you are too, right?” He didn’t say it either. As careless as he could sometimes be, Clint wasn’t stupid, and if the people around them hadn’t realized he was Hawkeye, an Avenger, or that Bucky was the _newest_ Avenger, then he wasn’t going to deliberately call attention to it.

Bucky shrugged. “Eh, I figure that’s just cause of Stevie. I get it. The punk _is_ pretty fucking stubborn.”

“Pretty sure we all are,” Clint snorted. “Think it might be some sort of requirement. But, uh, I think you’re wrong. Your place on the team? You earned that. And fuck, you deserve this, as long as you want to be a part of this. As long as Steve or your own conscience isn’t guilting you into this, which, if that’s what’s going on, no judgement. I been there.”

Clint didn’t miss the sharp look Bucky gave him, but the food arrived and the discussion was tabled in favor of steak and eggs for Bucky and allllll the pancakes ever for Clint. Plus a side of sausage.

Patting his pleasantly full stomach, Clint and Bucy made their way back out into the parking lot, both of them with the leftovers of a second meal each in a bag and Clint with his traveling mug filled with fresh, hot coffee.

“Damn,” Bucky shook his head. “Think you might rival Tony for coffee consumption. I knew you couldn’t function without it when you were waking up but…”

“Tony and I _do_ have a mutual appreciation of the best beverage on the planet. But in his case, it’s more of a tool than a love.” Clint unlocked the car and slid in the seat, Bucky a heartbeat behind him, gently placing the bag of leftovers on the floor behind their seats.

He raised a questioning eyebrow at Clint once they were both belted in and Clint had turned on the car, the sounds of George Michael’s guitar once more filling the air. “How’s that?”

“He mostly binges coffee when he’s in the lab in a science haze. Once the science has let him go,” Clint shrugs, “It’s like he forgets coffee ever existed. No appreciation for the bean, I tell you.” Clint sniffed haughtily as he backed out of the space and smiled when Bucky huffed a laugh.

“God, _you’re_ ridiculous,” he said, but there was amusement in his tone.

“Thank you,” Clint said, winking at him as he pulled back onto the highway. “I try.”

“So we driving straight through or we stopping at any point?” Bucky asked.

“Figured we’ll drive a little further, then grab a motel and sleep through rush hour and start again after,” Clint said.

“How bad can rush hour be upstate?” Bucky scoffed.

“You’d be surprised. Besides, it’s as good a time as any,” Clint said.

“Or, I could drive, let you take a nap,” Bucky offered. “I don’t need as much sleep.”

“Rub it in, why don’t ya?” Clint said with a laugh. “Thanks, but nah. I’m old and my legs are way too fucking long to try sleeping in this car. Just let met stretch ‘em out for a few hours of snooze, and I’ll be good to go again. And hey, if you wanna drive, that’s fine by me. Taking turns to stay alert, probably for the best. What’s the timetable again?”

“3 pm of the day after tomorrow,” Bucky answered. He didn’t even bother looking into the packet.

“Oh, that’s plenty of time. We could even sightsee a little if we wanted.”

“That’s probably not a good idea,” Bucky said disapprovingly.

“Aw, hey, what fun is a road trip without a little sightseeing? ‘sides, they pad the time in case things come up. If we drove straight through, no more stops, took turns driving, we could be there tomorrow afternoon,” Clint pointed out. “One or two short stops won’t kill us. How about this… we won’t deliberately go looking for anything, but each of us gets one stop if something catches our eye and it’s not too far off the beaten path?”

Clint watched as Bucky wavered. His sense of duty was strong, but it wasn’t as strong as Caps and Clint knew from Steve that Bucky had always had a high sense of curiosity and wonder about things. Already, Clint was thinking ahead for a few things he thought Bucky might like to see, and which ones they’d have to skip – this time around. Parks were great and all, but actually getting to enjoy them properly would take way more time than they had, even if Clint could persuade Bucky they did.

Which, they didn’t. And Clint wasn’t as irresponsible as some might think. Though, yeah, he didn’t always do much to dispel the notion. Being underestimated had kept him alive so far.

But, he mused, Bucky might like the Lighthouse in Marblehead and that wasn’t too far off the path. Then there was that place in Moline… they’d _definitely_ have to stop there. He could pass it off as for lunch or something too. Two birds, one stone. He grinned. Oh yeah, they were definitely doing this. Bucky, as far as Clint could tell, hadn’t been able to get out much just to _do_ fun things. Museums, parks, walks down memory lane, stupid tourist shit, none of it.

And that was a damn shame.

Was he _afraid_ to go out? Afraid of… of what? Of himself or of the people around him? Or… maybe Bucky thought he wasn’t allowed?

Well, dammit, he was. And Clint was gonna make sure he knew that.

Not too long after, after a bit of yawning and assuring Bucky he was good, he got off on an exit that boasted a Motel 6. He left Bucky with the car and went in for a room, coming out soon after with the keys and leading the way, still yawning.

“Y’know, Barton,” Bucky said after Clint opened the door. “I’m pretty sure we have the funds to upgrade to better digs. Y’don’t have to save money.”

“Huh?” Clint looked at Bucky, then around till it pinged on his sleepy mind what Bucky was actually referring to. The single, King sized bed in the room. Fuck. He hadn’t even thought to warn Bucky. He and Nat had shared a bed more than once on missions or even just because. Not that they’d ever been ‘together’ or anything, it was just how comfortable they were with each other. They’d gotten each other through some tough times, specially back when, after Loki…

Clint derailed that thought. “Oh, no man, they actually didn’t have anything else. It’s okay, I promise I don’t kick in my sleep.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

Rolling his eyes, Clint said, “I typically don’t molest anyone in their sleep either.”

Bucky shook his head and sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Never thought you would, Barton. You’re a good man.”

Clint frowned, dropping down to sit on the end of the bed and look at Bucky. “Oooo-kay? Um, thanks?” Not that he always believed that, on his low days, but he’d been trying. Hearing it from somebody other than Nat or his therapist was nice, though, even if Bucky didn’t know all of Clint’s history. “So what’s the prob?”

“I – I still get nightmares, sometimes,” Bucky admitted finally. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Oh. Well, okay then. “Join the club,” Clint said with a wry smile. “Don’t worry about me. Even dead to the world I have amazing self-preservation skills.”

Staring at him incredulously, Bucky shook his head. “No, you don’t. You jumped off a 20 story building last week.”

“That was different. That was work related and hey, we got like, 3 people who can fly and catch me, aaaaaand I’ve got grappling arrows. I was good. More importantly, I made the shot,” Clint pointed out. it’d been a pretty damn good shot too, and had been a turning point in the battle, so absolutely worth the risk. “Point is, it’s okay. Promise.”

Deliberately turning away, Clint grabbed his duffel and hit the bathroom. When he returned a few moments later, freshly changed, it was to find Bucky already sitting under the covers, back up against the headboard.

“Try and get some sleep,” Clint said, mouth twisting up a little as he padded over to the bed and pulled back the covers. “I know you don’t need as much but, you should definitely try.”

He laid back on the pillow, pulled up the covers and reached for his ears. He hesitated, glanced at Bucky, then pulled the aides off, took out the batteries and set them aside, the world going quieter than he was used to. He wasn’t completely deaf, after all, just mostly, and if they’d been in his apartment in Bed-Stuy, he might still hear little bits of things, depending on the source. After all these years, it was still a bit unnerving.

On the other hand, at least he didn’t have to find out if Bucky snored.

“Night,” he mumbled, closing his eyes and rolling to his side. With that, he dropped to sleep quicker than he’d expected. He woke partly a little while later, when warmth crowded against him – an arm around his waist, a knee tucked between his, breath against his neck. It was slow, and even and comforting and Clint drifted back to sleep, being cuddled by an ex-assassin.

Who knew Bucky was a cuddler? And after all that worry, too.

When Clint woke up, he was alone in the bed and Bucky was by the window, looking out. On the table beneath the window was a couple of take out cups and the smell of coffee – which was what had woken him – permeated the air.

“Mmmmm…. Coffee,” Clint said, stumbling up and out of the bed, over to Bucky. He stopped beside Bucky and yawned, stretching and popping his back. He wondered if the cracking had been as loud as it _felt_. By Bucky’s sudden turn and wide-eyed look, Clint thought maybe they had been. “You are a god among men. Which one is mine?”

Bucky pointed and Clint snatched it up, giving it a nice, long inhale before drinking it down in two gulps. When he finished, he saw Bucky’s mouth moving and he held up a finger.

“Hold up, can’t hear ya. Give me a sec,” Clint said, putting the cup down and going for his aides. He’d barely had them in when Bucky broke the silence.

“I thought those were comms?”

“They can double as them, sure. Stark tech, so, could probably even make julienne fries! Wouldn’t put it past Tony,” Clint said. 

“You are so weird.”

“All part of my charm,” Clint said, winking. Bucky’s blush deepened. “Now, what were you saying?”

“Oh! Uh, I was apologizing for last night. Not sure you even noticed but I was kinda wrapped around you when I woke up this morning,” Bucky said, blushing.

“Oh, yeah, that was totally cool,” Clint said. He sent Bucky a smirk. “Didn’t mind it a bit. In fact, think I slept even better for it.”

Bucky, if anything, blushed even harder. It was adorable. “We, uh, we should get back on the road.”

“Sure thing,” Clint agreed. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “But first, I should hit the shower. If you want, you can drive for the first leg?”

Before long, they were back in the car and on their way. “Just stay on this road for the next few hours,” Clint said to Bucky. “Even if I conk out, we’ll be good.”

“Hey, so, how come you know the way so well?”

“It’s the old homestead,” Clint said, shrugging. Bucky gave him a weird look and he laughed. “I know, I know! If it’s my place, why are we heading out there of a mission? Actually, it’s not as weird as you think. We use it as a staging point sometimes. Very, very rarely, but it’s happened. But the location is only known to a handful of people.”

“Let me guess,” Bucky said, a wry look on his face. “Fury and Nat?”

Clint nodded. “And Phil, once upon a time.” He blinked and shook off the memories. “Though I’ve been planning to make it available to the Avengers as a safehouse, or a place to just… take a break sometimes. It’s good for that.”

It was where he’d gone, after New York, and it had helped.

The family he’d made within the team, with the Avengers, that had also helped and he wanted to share that with them, the bit of peace that the farm could hold, that it had become – a far cry from what it had once been. It was a weirdly new chapter in his life and Clint had found that he liked it. He slipped on a pair of purple sunglasses, reclined his seat back a little and kicked his shoes of his feet, putting his feet up on the dash.

“Don’t think that’s legal, sweetheart,” Bucky drawled with a side glance at Clint. “At the very least, it’d dangerous.”

“Psssh… danger is my middle name,” Clint said, waving a hand about.

“No, it’s not,” Bucky said, his lips twitching. “Heard tell it’s Francis.”

Clint gasped. “Lies! Scandalous lies! Who told you that?”

Bucky snickered. “Wouldn’t _you_ like to know.”

“It was Tony, wasn’t it?” Clint accused. “Nat would _never_ tell. We’ve got a pact. But Tony! Can’t hide anything from him, and he’s wanted to get me back ever since I convinced JARVIS that Dog Cops was the best show ever.”

“I thought you knew, Barton? A spy is like a magician – never revealing their methods,” Bucky said, silently laughing, the quirk of his lips getting larger. Clint loved that look on Bucky. It had been all too rare in the early days of him coming to the tower, under Steve and Sam’s wing, but Clint had been noticing it more and more often, lately. It was a thing of beauty.

_Bucky_ was a thing of beauty.

They fell into easy silences, broken intermittently by equally easy conversation and bad jokes, Clint taking care to point out a few landmarks on the way. As he suspected, Bucky had a keen interest in most of the tourist landmarks along their route, despite them not having the time to stop and truly appreciate most of them.

“Always wanted to travel,” Bucky admitted at one point. “Did a little, with the war but, well, not exactly the sort of sightseeing I had really been hoping for.”

Clint nodded. “I get that. When I was with the circus, we traveled all over, but we were always too busy with set up and performing that we never actually got out to see where we were. SHIELD wasn’t much better – always with the missions, but I still found some time where I could.” He saw the sign for Marblehead and grinned, pointing. “What about that one? It’s a lighthouse. Even for a tourist stop, it shouldn’t be too crowded, and I bet it has a great view.”

“Kinda in the job description of a lighthouse to have a great view, isn’t it?” Bucky said with a roll of his eyes. But he nodded. “Okay, sure. We’re making good time. we can stop for a bit, maybe grab some lunch when we do?”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Clint agreed, holding back the urge to fist pump the air in victory. It was a near thing.

Clint had been right. Here, in the middle of the week, in the middle of the day, the lighthouse was fairly uncrowded. And it had one _hell_ of a view, too. The tall, white building sat on the rocky shore of Lake Eerie, with a good balance of trees and open space around it. They’d stopped to get some lunch before heading out to the lighthouse itself, and took advantage of the picnic area to eat, looking out over the water as they did.

“It smells different,” Bucky said softly, a breeze sweeping his hair back up and away from his face. Clint wasn’t staring. Not at all.

His fingers _itched_ to snap a picture.

“Not salty, of course, not like the ocean but… it definitely has a distinct smell.”

Clint hummed in agreement - an idle thought of making sure to introduce Bucky to Leverage at some point crossing his mind - and shifted on the bench of the table, discretely thumbing on the screen of his phone, ostensibly taking photos of the lighthouse and the landscape from where he was sitting.

He might have snagged one or two of Bucky’s profile in the process. Bucky didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he just wasn’t letting on that he’d noticed. Clint was a spy, though, and he could be sneaky when he wanted to be, so he was going to believe the former.

After the food was eaten, they wandered about the shore a bit and eventually into the lighthouse itself, Bucky and Clint taking turns snapping pictures.

“I’m not an artist, not like Steve is,” Bucky said absently, “but I can sure appreciate beauty when I see it.”

“Yeah,” Clint sighed, unable to keep the dreamy tone out of his voice when he looked over at Bucky leaning on the red railing, looking so deeply relaxed and serene that it was absolutely entrancing. “I know what you mean.”

Before they headed back down, Clint managed to shake it off long enough to propose a selfie of both of them. Bucky leaned up against the side of the lighthouse with the lake at his back and Clint slung an arm around his shoulders, using the long length of his arm to snap the selfie.

“Hey, that came out pretty good,” Bucky said when they leaned in together to view it. “Send it to me?”

“Of course!” Clint said, grinning. They walked back down to where their car waited, legs sufficiently stretched by the stop and Clint taking the wheel for the next leg of their journey.

They switched one other time, after a stop for dinner at a hole in the wall diner that had the _best_ fried pickles Clint had ever had. A few hours later and they were stopping once more, this time for the night. If Clint had timed it right, he knew _exactly_ where they’d be stopping for lunch the next day.

An early one, since they had a deadline to hit Waverly. But this was a stop they _couldn’t_ miss.

The motel they stopped at wound up being mostly empty due to ongoing renovations, leaving only a small handful of available rooms out of the already small selection, and it was with no surprise to Clint that they wound up – yet again – with just the one bed.

If he was honest with himself, he’d been both dreading and hoping for that. His little crush on Bucky was only getting worse the longer they were on this roadtrip. Seeing Bucky this carefree was magical and Clint wished it could go on forever. Even in the safety of the tower, Bucky was rarely this… open, this… _easygoing._ Was this what Bucky had been like before?

From the sad look Steve sometimes got on his face, Clint was willing to bet that there was still plenty of differences between the old Bucky and the new one but as far as Clint could see, there was nothing wrong with the new one.

Sure, there was a little hurt around the edges, a few rough spots, a few scars, but Clint had those too. Who on the Avengers _didn’t?_

Still, Steve was seeing Bucky through the lens of nostalgia and guilt. There was baggage there that Clint didn’t have, and maybe… maybe this, now, was a freedom Bucky didn’t feel he had back at the tower, under Steve’s concerned and watchful gaze?

Clint got that. Nat had never been as bad as Steve was, but after New York, things had been different between them for a little while.

“It’ll get better,” Clint said, as they settled under the blankets, mouth moving before he even realized it.

“What?” Bucky asked, staring at him with a raised eyebrow and a face full of confusion.

“Steve. I get he worries about you, and he hovers sometimes -”

Bucky snorted. “Try all the time, pal.”

Clint grinned. “Yeah, okay. But the point is, I’ve been there. With Nat. She walked on eggshells around me after, after New York, which was just fucking unnerving as hell. But she got over it. Steve will too. Just give him time. He’s already better than he used to be.”

“That’s cause I threatened the not so little punk with a knuckle sandwich if he didn’t give me at least a _little_ bit of space,” Bucky muttered. “Stevie… I know he means well, but he takes too much weight on his shoulders. He blames himself for, well…” Bucky gestured at himself. “Everything, and doesn’t give himself enough credit for everything else.”

“Yeah, I think most of us are like that, even Tony behind all that bravado. Like I said, just give him time. Steve’ll get over himself eventually and see just how amazing you are.” Clint yawned.

“Oh, I am, am I?” Bucky said, rolling over to face Clint. Clint couldn’t help the blush that warmed his cheeks.

“Well, I mean, you _are_. What you’ve come back from? It’s downright inspirational,” Clint said. “You’re strong, Buck. One of the strongest people I know.”

“Thanks, doll,” Bucky breathed out, and Clint could swear Bucky’s eyes were glistening. “But I couldn’t have done that without the support of you all.”

“Well, however you pulled yourself through, I’m glad we could help,” Clint said, unable to stop himself from reaching for Bucky’s hand, feeling a small thrill when their fingers touched softly.

“You did,” Bucky said, giving Clint’s hand a gentle squeeze. And for a moment, Clint could have sworn he meant that as _Clint_ but that wasn’t possible, because they hadn’t had all that many one on one interactions in the grand scheme of things before this little road trip. Before Clint could question it further, Bucky let go of his hand, rolled back over, reached out and turned the lights off. “Night, Clint.”

“Night, Buck,” Clint said, pulling off his aides and setting them on the side table, next to his charging phone. He quickly slipped off to sleep, floating warm and comfortable in a dream of him and Bucky side by side, Bucky laughing softly, smiling gently. Fingers brushing Clint’s hair off his forehead, of lips brushing against his cheek.

When he woke in the morning, he found himself curled around Bucky, face nuzzled between Bucky’s shoulders, breathing in the good, rich scent of him.

Clint was in heaven and didn’t want to leave. But alas, all good things must come to an end. Bucky stretched, the skin under Clint’s cheek vibrating and, with a huff, Clint separated from Bucky, sitting up and yawning, stretching his arms high above his head. He was too warm and lethargic and… _fuzzy_ around the edges to do much more than that as the bed shifted and Bucky padded off to the bathroom in his boxers and his sleeveless t shirt.

Which, well, that was a sight that would wake _anyone_ up. Clint looked guiltily down at his lap and sighed before finally rolling off the bed and putting his aides back in and heading for his duffle.

Armed an hour later with coffee and bagels – Bucky’s lips curling in disgust at the idea of non – New York bagels and wasn’t _that_ fucking adorable – they got back on the road, Clint driving.

He planned to switch off with Bucky after the very important stop for lunch in Moline. Hopefully, the coffee and bagels would hold them until then.

“Do you ever talk about it?” Bucky asked suddenly, after they’d been driving comfortably for almost an hour, the radio playing yet another of Clint’s mystery tapes.

Clint’s breath hitched for a second and his fingers flexed over the steering wheel. “You mean, New York?”

“Yeah.”

“Not really,” Clint said. “Not a lot of people with good enough clearance that I trusted. Woulda talked to Phil if… Mostly I talked to Nat, if I did. She… understood what I’d gone through better than anyone else around us would have. I mean, not entirely, but…” Clint was hedging, he knew it, but even after all this time, it was hard. “Uh, what do, um, what do _you_ know about what happened in New York?”

“Know it was a shit show, and New York wouldn’t be standing now if it weren’t for the Avengers,” Bucky said. “Saw some of the footage, too. Ain’t too surprising you guys have nightmares about it.”

Clint drew in a sharp breath, noted his hands were shaking and pulled over, stopping the car.

“Clint? What’s wrong?” Bucky’s panicked voice cut through Clint’s internal panic but he didn’t move, staring straight out over the dash, knuckles turning white.

“They… they didn’t tell you? Jesus, I thought…” Clint laughed a little hysterically.

“Okay, doll, you’re scaring me,” Bucky said. Out of the corner of his eye, Clint saw him shifting to face him. “Did I – was I there?” His voice was quiet and cracking. Clint blinked, head jerking back, swinging around to face Bucky.

“What? No! Fuck, no, Bucky! Don’t blame yourself for New York!” Clint blurted. Bucky’s face changed from horror to confusion.

“I don’t get it – if that’s not it, then why are you freaking out about me not knowing somethin’?”

Clint sighed and dropped his head back against the seat, closing his eyes. “Cause I’m the one to blame for that shit show. I thought… I thought somebody would have told you.”

“You’re responsible for aliens invading New York?” Bucky asked skeptically.

“Pretty much. Almost took down the helicarrier too, with everyone on it. Before Nat was able to… knock my head loose again.”

Bucky’s voice came slow and gentle. “Brainwashed?”

“By a god with a magic rock, yeah,” Clint croaked. “Only 3 days but, I did a fuckton of damage in that time.” Tears stung his eyes. He’d thought he was over this, that he’d processed enough of it to shove it in the back of his head and never think about it again. Fuck.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Bucky breathed.

Clint shifted, rolling his head to the side against the headrest to look at Bucky and mustered up a smile to send his way, hoping it didn’t look too much like a grimace, or worse, fake. “So, when I say you’re an inspiration, I really fucking mean it. On a very personal level, okay? I know you didn’t quite believe me last night.”

“I wanted to,” Bucky admitted, reaching for Clint’s face, his fingers brushing Clint’s cheeks and coming away wet. “I’m so sorry, Clint. That’s the kind of life experience no one should ever have.”

“On the bright side,” Clint said, “The brainwashed ex-assassins turned Avenger club is fairly small. Just you, me and Nat. So nobody else _does_ have that life experience.”

By the raised eyebrow on Bucky’s face, he wasn’t all that impressed by the thought. “That’s almost _half_ the Avengers,” Bucky pointed out.

“Half the _original_ Avengers,” Clint corrected. “We keep acquiring new members. Think we’re up to… uh…” Clint ran through names in his head. “Thirteen now? So that means less than a quarter.”

Bucky frowned. “I’m not officially an Avenger.”

Clint waved it off. “Eh, whatever. You’re absolutely an Avenger. You’ve already proved yourself, like, a million times over.” Wiping at his face, Clint took a breath and reached for the gear shift.

A hand covered his before he could push it into drive. He blinked at Bucky’s hand, then back up to Bucky’s face.

“Did you want to take a breather? Sit here for a few minutes or, let me drive a bit?”

Shaking his head, Clint said, “Nah, I’m good. But thanks, Bucky.”

“Clint – “

“Seriously,” Clint said softly, a _real_ smile breaking over his face, his chest warm and something giddy rising in him at this display from Bucky – the kind of care usually only Steve or Nat or children could bring out in him - his hand turning over to grip Bucky’s. “Thank you.”

Clint felt lighter, after that. Which was weird, right? He’d assumed Bucky knew before, so why would telling him about it, even in the most vague terms, make much difference? Ugh, guess all those SHIELD therapists were right, about talking it out.

Catch Clint admitting that to anyone, anytime soon though.

The rest of the morning was less emotionally charged, thank god, with good music and easy chatter filling the car while Clint drove. His stomach started growling just as he saw the signs for Moline. Perfect.

“So I thought this place might be good for lunch. I’ve always wanted to stop there. You about ready to eat?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I’m not Steve, but yeah, pretty much always.”

“Great! I can’t _wait_ to check this place out,” Clint gushed.

“You gonna tell me what’s so special about this place?”

Clint flashed him a smile. “Nope! It’s a surprise.”

“Better surprise than that time you drew over all the windows in the common area?”

“Hey, those were wet erase markers! It was no big deal!” Clint protested, but he didn’t stop grinning in the slightest. Bucky laughed and it was such a great sound, so light and carefree.

Bucky continued to guess, right up until Clint pulled out front. Before he’d even finished parking, Bucky was staring at the big glass windows shadowed by a red and green striped awning, a big green hanging sign out front, with yellow and white letters proclaiming it to be Lagomarcino’s.

“An ice cream shop?” Bucky asked, incredulously.

“Yeah,” Clint breathed. “I’ve heard great things about this place, but for some reason, I’ve never actually stopped in.” He was usually on his way to a mission, with timing critical. Or too worn out from one – sometimes physically, sometimes mentally - to even consider having to go out in the public. He knew he’d never fully appreciate the place in a state like that.

Other times, they’d flown, not driven. No easy way to stop off.

“Well, let’s change that then, shall we?” Bucky said, a small, indulgent smile adorning his face.

They stepped inside, taking in the atmosphere. Clint wasn’t sure how it compared to old style ice cream shoppes, but it was definitely nice. He nudged Bucky.

“Counter or booth?” Clint asked, pointing at the booths, deep, dark wood and tall walls. Perfect for a semblance of privacy if Bucky wanted, which he usually did. He still sometimes got overwhelmed with the press of people, and even though it was pretty empty in here at this time of day, Clint knew it could also be a comfort thing.

“Booth,” Bucky said.

They’d barely sat down before menus were being placed before them and their waitress was welcoming them. Clint squirmed in his seat as he perused the menu, hardly able to contain his excitement of finally being here. And with bonus Bucky! It was almost like a date! If, y’know, Bucky was ready for that, yet. Or was into guys. At least Clint knew he wouldn’t get punched in the face if he ever got up the guts to ask and it turned out Bucky wasn’t.

Clint started with a coffee (and a fond eye roll from Bucky at the order), bowl of chili and a Reuben on rye with extra pickles while Bucky got two sandwiches – a club and corned beef with a strawberry shake.

The food was _amazing_ and was gone all too fast.

“Can I interest you boys in desert? Ice cream’s kind of our specialty,” the waitress joked.

“Mmm…” Clint hummed. “I think I got room for that. Buck?”

“Definitely.”

“All right then, I’ll give you a minute to decide,” she said. “Want a refill on that coffee hon?”

“Yes, _please,”_ Clint said emphatically.

Bucky snorted at Clint and picked up the menu, but 30 seconds later was dropping it on the table in disgust.

“What’s the matter?”

“Almost everything on here has _banana’s_ in it,” he complained.

“Oh, well, surely not everything – oh! Look here, what about the Best Hot Fudge Sundae, or, uh, the Turtle Sundae? Those both look good. Or you could just ask them to hold the banana,” Clint said, leaning over to point at Bucky’s menu.

In the end, Bucky went simple, with the Best Hot Fudge Sundae while Clint ordered the Sweetheart Sundae, ignoring Bucky’s glare at the banana that came with Clint’s. Him and Steve and their vendetta against modern banana’s was kind of funny, sometimes. But mostly sad. Clint got it. It was yet another reminder that Bucky and Steve were displaced from everything they’d known, everyone they’d grown up with, and how much the world had changed.

So Clint didn’t poke him about the banana where the others – but definitely Tony or Sam – might have.

Stomachs pleasantly full, Bucky took over driving after their stop for lunch. They’d gotten about 20 minutes down the road before Bucky said, “Thanks for that.”

Clint shrugged from his lazed back position in his seat, purple sunglasses firmly ensconced upon his face. “I know it probably ain’t much like what you grew up with – “

“Close enough,” Bucky said, smiling at Clint in that way that always made Clint want to freaking melt. “Thanks.”

“Sure, no prob,” Clint said weakly, still too stunned by the smile to get his brain working again. From the way it grew into a smirk, he had a feeling Bucky _knew_ that.

The jerk.

An hour and a half after their stop for lunch, they’d switched from 80 to 380 and were almost on top of the place before Clint remembered what was coming up next and he jerked upright, keeping an eye out for the sign.

“What’s up?” Bucky asked, scanning the road in alarm.

“Nothing bad, don’t worry – oh! There it is! Stop the car! Stop the car!” he exclaimed excitedly.

“What? Why? You said we could each pick a place to stop and we’ve done that,” Bucky said, already slowing down. “We have just under 2 hours left to get to Waverly.”

“Those didn’t count, we were stopping for lunch!” Clint said. “Pleeeeease, Bucky? It’ll be real quick, promise!”

Bucky sighed but he’d already pulled over to the shoulder and brought the car to a halt. Clint was out of the bug in a flash, darting toward the sign. “C’mon, Bucky!”

Following at a more sedate pace, Bucky looked at Clint incredulously as Clint shoved his phone – already in camera mode – into Bucky’s hands. “Just a few photos of me with this sign, and then we can go, okay?”

“The Hawkeye Wildlife Management? Really?” he asks, but he obliges Clint as Clint slides from one pose to the next. Bucky’s rolling his eyes, but Clint could see he was taking great care with each photo he snapped.

“I can’t believe, seeing as you’ve been out this way before, having the route memorized and all, that you’ve never stopped to take photos.”

“What makes you think I haven’t? Selfies only go so far,” Clint admitted, striking another pose.

Bucky laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“We been over this, Bucky,” Clint said, shooting finger guns at him. “All part of my charm.”

“It’s all part of somethin’, allright,” Bucky said, shaking his head at Clint, but grinning like a loon. Clint beamed back at him and for a second, or maybe a few moments, he’s not sure anymore, they get stuck like that.

Then a truck barreled past them, horn blaring, and they jerk apart. Clint blinked, then cleared his throat. “Uh, so, um, thanks for indulging me,” he says, holding out his hand. Bucky returns his phone.

“Sure thing, doll,” Bucky said. And was it Clint’s imagination or was Bucky sounding a little breathless?

The last hour and a half of the trip, Clint was grateful for the sunglasses hiding his eyes as he snuck glances at Bucky. He dug the file back out to go over it again at Bucky’s request, but it was just as empty of information as it had been when they started out, and their talk slowly moved on to other things. Whatever had almost happened out there on the road hadn’t, at least, ruined that for them.

Looking up from his phone, Clint directed Bucky off the road onto the long, dirt driveway of the farm, the gate already open. The farm was obscured from the road itself (and any neighbors, Clint knew well) by trees that thinned out the closer they got to the house. Still a fixer upper, the large house was in much better repair than it had been when Clint first got his hands back on it.

There was already an old red pickup parked out front, but that was no surprise, since the packet had stated they’d be meeting up with someone here. Clint hopped out of the bug. “I’ll get the door, clear the entryway, you get the bags?”

Over the roof of the bug, Bucky nodded and Clint grinned, darting up the steps onto the porch and opening the screen door with a creak. He looked around the front rooms with approval and swung about as he heard Bucky’s boots hit the steps.

A sudden thought occurred to him and he turned back to the rooms at large, frantically moving his hands just as the screen door creaked open again behind him and the boots froze.

Clint turned around and spread his arms wide. “Um…. Surprise?”

Bucky was staring about the front rooms of the house in shock, taking in the various Avengers – or Avenger adjacent folks - lounging about the place or coming out of hiding with various greetings of ‘ _surprise_ ’.

Steve stepped up and clapped Bucky on the shoulder. “Hey, Buck. How was the trip?”

“Good. A bit confused though. What are y’all doin’ here? I thought there was a mission?”

“I’m sorry, son. I’m afraid that was a bit of a falsehood on my part.”

Clint did _not_ startle when Fury seemed to melt out of the woodwork. Seriously, he hadn’t been there two seconds ago.

“It’s a party, Bucky,” Steve said, beaming proudly at his best friend. “For you.”

“What?”

“It’s a Welcome to the Avengers party,” Clint said. “See, I _told_ you you were an Avenger.”

“Inside knowledge,” Bucky said with a laugh. “But why _here_? Why the roadtrip and the subterfuge?”

“Hey, don’t look at me,” Tony shouted across the room. “I offered up the tower, but Nat seemed to think you’d sniff out a party before we were ready for you. Steve concurred.”

Bucky finally dropped the duffle bags, tucking them into a corner by the door. “Well, they’re not wrong,” Bucky admitted. “But aren’t surprise parties supposed to be loud and, well…” he trailed off.

Clint rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. “I got in here and suddenly thought that with you on possible mission alert, a room full of people jumping out and yelling surprise might _not_ be the best thing for everyone’s health. No offense.”

“Surprisingly, we have a ‘no surprise parties’ rule of thumb in place for multiple people on this team – myself included - and somehow it never occurred to us while we were planning yours that we should be expanding the list,” Tony said.

“No offense taken,” Bucky agreed. “I can see how that _could_ be an issue with this team. And at least it was still a surprise, but without the – what do you call those? Jump scare.”

“All right then!” Tony clapped his hands together. “Let’s get this party started! JARVIS? Music!”

A little while later found Clint perched on the back of a couch by the big picture windows of his front room, just watching the quiet chaos of the party. Even the music was a respectable volume and almost everyone was able to hold easy conversations. He watched as Bucky slowly made his way through the small crowd of people all officially welcoming him onto the team.

Clint’s house had never been so crowded, or so full of life and laughter and _family_. This, letting the rest of the Avengers know where this place was, had been a great idea. It already felt more like a home than it ever had been, even when he was a child and actually lived here with his blood family.

Eventually, Bucky managed to break away from the latest conversation he’d been cornered in, though he didn’t look desperate to leave just tired, and he joined Clint, leaning up against the arm of the couch and the edge where the wall and window met.

“Having a good time?” Clint asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, surprise coloring his voice. Then he blushed. “But uh, not quite as good a time as these past few days have been.”

Clint blinked and turned his head to face Bucky. Bucky was resolutely looking straight ahead, arms crossed over his chest in a supposedly casual pose that was anything _but_ casual. Clint had _seen_ casual Bucky and this wasn’t it. This was Bucky _waiting_ for something. Hoping, maybe? Clint continued to stare, and the blush staining Bucky’s cheek got deeper, and his eyes slipped downward, eyelids following along, those gray blue eyes peeking at Clint from under those lashes.

If it had been someone else, the look might have been missed, the eyes mistaken for closed, but Clint wasn’t Hawkeye for nothing.

Taking a breath, hoping to _god_ he wasn’t reading Bucky wrong, Clint reached for Bucky and tugged at him lightly, urging him to uncross his arms until Clint could lace their fingers together. Bucky looked down at their now linked hands and then back up.

“Y’know,” Clint said slowly. “I just realized something. But you been calling me doll and sweetheart an awful lot on this trip.”

Bucky jerked a little, as if he was going to move away and Clint’s hand tightened on Bucky’s.

“Now, that I think on it, that ain’t too fair, is it? A little one sided, maybe. So I’m thinkin’,” Clint said slowly, “That I need to come up with something good to make up for it.”

“That so?” Bucky said, his voice coming out a little rough, a little breathless. “You got any ideas?”

Clint twisted till he straddled the back of the couch, his dangling legs bracketing Bucky’s body. He gave Bucky another tug to turn him about to face Clint. Sitting down like that meant he was just a smidge shorter than Bucky. It was almost the perfect height as he reeled Bucky closer, his other hand reaching up to cup Bucky’s stubbled jaw, drawing him in, in, in –

He halted, leaving scant space between their lips. “How’s about a kiss?” Clint asked hoarsely, staring into Bucky’s eyes, searching, making sure –

“Fuck yeah,” Bucky murmured, the words caressing Clint’s lips a bare instant before Bucky’s mouth was pressing on Clint’s with warm intent.

Clint _melted_ into it.

Into gentle kisses sweeter than the chocolates they’d bought at the ice cream shop. Into chaste kisses that took Clint’s _breath_ away. Chatter and music and all sound seemed to fade away at these simple kisses, except for the sound of his and Bucky’s breathing, Clint’s heart pounding.

Had the entire road trip been leading up to this? No, no, Clint had had feelings for Bucky long before that. The road trip had simply been the catalyst for his – for _theirs,_ apparently – feelings to come out in the open.

When they finally pulled away from each other, neither of them went far, foreheads resting against each other’s, staring deeply into each other’s eyes.

It wasn’t until a throat was cleared beside them that the rest of the world rushed back in, startling them. They turned, but didn’t let go of each other. Most of the room didn’t appear to be paying much attention, but Steve was beaming at them and Nat was looking at them appraisingly.

Clint blushed, holding his breath.

Nat nodded. A tiny thing but relief swept through him and – from the way Bucky abruptly relaxed against him – through Bucky as well.

“Do you think – “ Bucky started, staring after Nat and Steve as they turned their attentions away from him and Clint.

“That those two had an ulterior motive _neither_ of us were aware of?” Clint finished the question. Bucky nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

Neither strayed too far from each other during the rest of the party. A hand here, a brush of fingers there, a lingering glance. Clint’s heart swelled with happiness and each time he looked at Bucky, he could feel that warm ball in his chest expanding.

Later that night, when the party died down and people had to find places to sleep – big as the farmhouse was, it hadn’t been built _or_ furnished with upwards of twenty people in mind – Clint had easily pulled an unprotesting Bucky up to the room Clint had been remodeling as his own. As easy as they had while on the road, the two of them undressed, making ready for bed –

But this time, they started the night curled together, Clint wrapped around Bucky and holding him close. Soft kisses, gentle caresses, carried them off to sleep with promises of brighter and less lonely tomorrows.


End file.
